


Pathwalker

by Jayenn



Category: Labyrinth (1986), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Gen, Now featuring Jareth, and the ladies who frequently and with great relish thoroughly trounce them, caveat: updates the approximate speed of a glacier, except the drabbles will be like 2k, i feel the need to reiterate, i sure do have some plans for those two trickster boys, my attempt at the Loki Avenger trope, the crossover we all need, typical Marvel violence, what i mean is if I'm not dead I'll update eventually, when i say i won't abandon a work, will probably be more of a drabble series than anything
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-24
Updated: 2018-08-28
Packaged: 2018-12-06 06:26:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 16,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11594811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jayenn/pseuds/Jayenn
Summary: When Coulson shoots Loki with the Destroyer gun, Loki hits his head hard enough to knock Thanos' hold on him loose. The Avengers didn't really ask for a new teammate, much less one who had just tried to kill them, and yet.





	1. Prologue: Cognitive Recalibration

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first chapter, describing a universe where Loki wasn't actually a murdering megalomaniac bent on world domination.

* * *

 

“You lack conviction.”

  
For a moment, it is true, and I draw back with the weight of the words of a dying man. I—

  
I remember a blue light enveloping my eyes—

  
No.

  
_Barton’s_ eyes, of _course_ I meant Barton’s eyes.

  
I am suddenly, viciously angry.

  
(I will only remember later that anger is but a derivative of fear, and I should have thought to wonder what I was afraid of.)

  
The little broken man is still staring at me, and I snarl at him, “I don’t think _I_ —”

  
Pain erupts in my gut and I am flying backwards. I hit the wall head first and feel something

  
_snap_

  
_release_

  
and I crumple to the floor.

  
I lay there for a moment, blinking at the ceiling. The metal looks to have more iron than it did before, to have a reddish tint to it, and that is important.

  
_No,_ I realize, _it looks less blue._

  
I blink again. My vision is clear for what feels the first time in weeks, and I only now notice that it hadn’t been before. That the blue haze over everything was not just my focus on the Tesseract and the scepter.

That my eyes had likely been as blue as Barton and Selvig’s.

  
_I’ve been under his control this entire time._

  
Norns, that's embarrassing, and I turn on my side and keep from retching but only barely. I think of everything that’s happened, and I can’t remember where it started.

  
I had the idea to tear Midgard’s warriors apart—

  
_(a makeshift lab under the ground, feeling the tunnels press in and remembering other caves, other tunnels. Looking at Barton, the scepter casting his face in a blue glow. “Tell me everything.”)_

  
Had that _truly_ been my idea?

  
_(Stalking through what passed for a palace on this world, my steps unfolding before me as always, eying a guard and deciding to start my chaos there, reveling in the cacophony of screams echoing in the vaulted ceiling as the little mortals ran in terror.)_

  
It felt…like something I would do.

  
_(”It is the unspoken truth of humanity that you crave subjugation.”)_

  
Now I know _that_ wasn’t true at _all_. Anyone who's met humans knows that. And Norns, I don’t want to rule Midgard! Why in the Nine Realms would I want to do that?

  
_Because he wanted Midgard._

  
I have no use for this world. As far as I can remember, I only thought of it because Thor had been here.

  
_(”Humans think us immortal; should we test that?”)_

  
“Thor,” I gasp, lurching to my feet. I see the large hole in the wall I had been blasted through, and stumble towards it. Stones and feathers, the little man — Coulson — had struck quite a blow. I like him, I decide. Like and fear him, this man able to see the truth.

  
This man whose wound had made Thor shout.

  
I climb through the hole without even considering how undignified it looks and stare in horror at the space the monster’s cage had been. “Thor,” I breathe once more.

  
I fall to my knees.

  
The last time I’d seen him, he’d…

  
He’d been eying the glass.

  
“It’s only glass,” I tell myself. “He’ll be fine. He’s Thor. He’s fine.” He likely broke it with one blow and is about to fly in here and hit me again.

  
Oh.

  
I’m hyperventilating.

  
I hear something clicking and whirring and recognize it as the sound of the Destroyer recharging before a blow. I look up and see Coulson glaring at me, the weapon pointed directly at my chest.

  
I think of humans, and mortal stubbornness and curiosity, and I smile in spite of myself.

  
_Of course they figured out how it worked._

  
“He should be fine,” I assure him. “Thor’s a hulking mass. He’ll be fine.” I’m repeating myself. I know this is a sign of falsehood.

  
Coulson narrows his eyes and I notice only now that the weapon is trembling. He’s shaking. “You’re injured,” I say, dumbfounded even though I was the one who stabbed him.

  
Stabbed him, I—

  
I rise toward him and he stiffens. I pause. “I’m going to heal you.”

  
He huffs, his eyes tighten around the pain this causes, but otherwise he makes no indication of the severity of his injury. I am impressed. He tightens his hold on the weapon. “I don’t believe you,” he says.

  
I hold myself still, and weave a path between where I am now and where I want to be. I walk it unseen, anchoring myself to the illusion which holds his attention.

  
_(”Are you ever not going to fall for that?”)_

  
I kneel beside Coulson and spread a palm across his back. He jumps, startled, and my illusion flickers away. “Sh,” I murmur soothingly, letting my magic sink into the wound and knit it closed. “There you go,” I say proudly, and open my eyes to see him shifting the Destroyer weapon so it's pointed my direction yet again. “Oh, put that away, I’m not going to hurt you.”

  
_Again, that is._

  
Coulson squints at me. “Your eyes are green,” he says.

  
“Yes.”

  
“They used to be blue.”

  
In spite of my best efforts, I lower my gaze, instinctively trying to hide my embarrassment. “Yes.”

  
“Still don’t believe you.”

  
“Probably wise,” I agree, rising to my feet. “Where is—” I feel a thread _snap_ and a tension _release_ and the scepter glows almost angrily. “Barton’s free,” I say, staring at the Mind Gem. “Probably Romanoff, if I were to guess.” She’s clever, and a fighter if ever I saw one. She reminds me of the Queen, of—

  
“Free?”

  
“Like me,” I say absently, skirting around the scepter without touching it. “Thanos’ hold on him is broken.” Strange, that such a small stone can cause such damage. I frown. “Didn’t the doctor hold this? In his bare hands?”

  
“Doctor Banner?” Coulson is standing behind me. I politely ignore him shifting the Destroyer gun into position. “I don’t know," Coulson says.

  
“He did,” I say in awe. “He touched it, and it only let loose the beast within. How did he evade the grasp of the Other, of Thanos?”

_Mortals._

_Humans._

_No other beings in all of the Nine Realms -- nor even the Spaces Between -- could do such a thing._

  
I draw myself up, suddenly hopeful. “I think we can win this war,” I say, and I find myself grinning before I knew I was delighted with the thought.

* * *

 


	2. Connections

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Loki blithely ignores Fury and several of his agents not trusting him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off, thank you to everyone who left kudos! I'm so glad you all like this. I had no idea where to go from last chapter, though I kind of know what I want for chapter 6ish, so...we'll figure it out. Enjoy!

In the time it takes Nick Fury to reach the doorway, I consider the following:

_Thanos will know I have loosed his hold on me._

_The Chitauri are still coming._

_The Avengers are scattered -- well done, me -- and the Helicarrier is still falling, engines disabled -- well done, Barton -- and absolutely no one on this ship is going to trust me._

_(With good reason, of course. They would be quite foolish if they did.)_

_Were I to leave for the Tower this instant, the portal will already be in place and impossible to close._

(Blue eyes, fixed on the Tesseract, old fingers fixing wires to connections. A thought, quiet and small: this addition is not necessary.)

_My luck has never been that good, but if by some chance I am correct and Selvig has sabotaged the portal device, there may be a way of closing the portal._

_If I manage to close the portal, Thanos will still be looking for a way into Midgard, and from there the Nine Realms._

_He must be stopped, but how do you kill an immortal being?_

_It will not matter at all if I do not stop him taking Midgard._

Fury pauses at the doorway, out of sight. He inhales and holds it, which is something a warrior would do before striking.

I smile.

"I think you should tell your heroes that Coulson is dead," I declare.

Fury hesitates. Only for the barest moment, but it is enough for me to notice and therefore feel proud of. Fury rounds the corner, gun raised and hands steady. "Now why would I want to do that?" he asks, almost conversationally.

"I'm not dead," Coulson interjects. The Destroyer gun does not whir, which means he isn't pointing it at me again. Odd.

I shrug. "Oh, but they don't know that, and I've spent the past three days driving every wedge I could think of between them. They need a common enemy to fight, and as the Chitauri aren't here yet, I must suffice. Each one holds a bond with Coulson --except Banner, but he is..." I let my senses drift, trying to track the signature the scepter will have left in the doctor's mind. "He is falling," I summarize, "though I suspect the beast will protect him. It reminds me of someone I know." I shake my head to clear the distracting thoughts. "They will be outraged at my having killed Coulson, which will unify them more quickly than any rousing speech of duty to protect nameless citizens. Also-- oh Norns, I'm supposed to be on the Quinjet. Damn."

I find the minds of those Barton had flown in with, and trace a path to them. They stand, though one seems to be fighting the control of the scepter already, hand flexing near her weapon. I leave her for last.

I place my thumb over the pulse of the man nearest me and curl my fingers around the back of his neck, pressing my second finger against the tip of his spine. I let my mind fall into his. It is easy, when the Mind Stone has already torn it apart, and I regret that. I find the connection the Stone has left -- weak, wavering, and already beginning to break. The indomitable nature of human will never ceases to amaze me. I break the link between him and the Stone

_snap_

_release_

and step back, ducking his instinctive punch with ease. "Easy, soldier. I am on your side."

"Like hell," he spits, and swings wildly.

I catch his fist, using his momentum to pull him around. I hook his foot with mine and pull. He totters off balance. I shove him into the seat behind him and use magic to fasten the restraint before he can react. "I don't have time for you to figure this out."

He pulls futilely at the restraint while cursing me, and I ignore him.

The others are easy to release as well, and soon each one is buckled into a seat. 

I try not to laugh at this.

Judging by the glares I receive, my amusement is quite visible in my eyes.

"You all know what your part of the plan was," I tell them. "You know that your actions were not your own. I wielded the scepter against you, and for that crime I apologize. However, I myself was manipulated by the being which gifted me with the scepter, and I was not in my right mind. Your Agent Coulson--" I watch their eyes widen and see more than one set of shoulders straighten. I was correct; losing him would be a terrible blow to both SHIELD and its fledgling heroes. "--Agent Coulson unknowingly broke Thanos' hold on me." I decide they would be swayed by how it happened, and tell them.

They smile, and laugh, and nod as though it is expected.

"The portal is on Stark Tower, as you know." Their smiles vanish. "I aim to close it as soon as I am able, but the Chitauri will have already come through and begun wreaking havoc on the city. Will you lend me your aid, however little I deserve it?"

(All true, none of it lies, and I can imagine the voice of one of my oldest friends berating me for it anyway.)

The agents look at each other, then me, indecision heavy in their eyes.

"You have a few minutes to decide."

I trace my steps back to the Hulk's cage room, where Fury and Coulson are speaking in low, urgent tones. Coulson has finally set down the Destroyer gun.

I flicker back into reality a few feet away from them. "Agents Dunmar, Wallace, Morris, Davies, and Henley have been freed from the scepter's influence," I announce. "They are currently  _not_ figuring out that they are in fact free to leave the Quinjet at any time." Fury and Coulson frown at me and I do not explain what I mean: that I released the magic on their restraints the instant I left and I know that the agents, like the great elephants, having tried to escape once and found it impossible will not think to try again for a while.

"Would have figured you to be long gone," Fury comments.

I weigh several words and choose those which I think he will find the easiest to believe. "I wanted to rule Midgard, not see it set aflame." I shrug. "Besides, Thor is down there. Norns know the fool needs any help he can get." I let the fondness I feel color my voice.

Coulson narrows his eyes. "Don't you hate Thor?"

"Never more than I love him," I reply. It doesn't quite make sense to me either. I look at the both of them. "Have you thought on my plan?"

"It could work," Fury admits, "but it implies I trust you, which I don't."

"Of course," I murmur. I study the scepter, lying on the floor, deceptively calm. I will not risk it. "Well, good luck figuring something out." I find a path to Stark Tower -- it's less weaving my steps around things and more finding the brilliance which is the portal and throwing myself towards it. I hold the path steady, which is trickier than it sounds.

There is a radio on the floor and I summon it with a flick of my fingers. I  _could_ fiddle with the channels until I find the one I need, but where's the fun in that? I use magic to link it to the Quinjet. "Agent Henley."

Static, then the exasperated voice of the woman who had almost thrown off the scepter by herself. "You just had to leave us like that?"

I smile. "I thought it rather amusing."

"God of mischief indeed," she scoffs.

My smile widens. "And have you and your team come to a decision?"

She sighs through the speaker, which is incredibly unprofessional. "Oh, we'll be there. It's this little thing called guilt, I don't know if you've heard of it."

Now I laugh, and it is much more delighted than it should be. I  _like_ Henley. I shall have to find out her first name. "I imagine I shall be hearing a great deal of it in the future. Until then, Agent Henley."

"Bastard." She clicks off.

I turn my hand, sealing the radio in between spaces for me to summon later. I sweep Fury and Coulson a bow. "Until we meet again."

"Wait--" Coulson begins, moving towards me.

I slip onto the path I prepared and throw myself feet first through it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well I have no idea who Henley is, she just kind of...appeared. Anyway.
> 
> Again, I make no promises re: regular updates, but I will keep adding to this until it's the lovely monstrosity I've got in my head. 
> 
> Thank you all again!


	3. Rooftop Divergences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki finds he has rather neatly backed himself into a corner, and just as neatly steps out of it.

My feet land solidly enough on the gravel surface of the Tower's roof, but a deep pulse flows from the Tesseract and I nearly stumble. The latent energy of the portal is restless. Thanos has not opened the portal. If I am lucky -- and I am rarely that -- he is unable to do so. If I am unlucky, he is simply taking a few moments to decide on a course of action after my betrayal. In the meantime, the Gem of Space glitters in marvelous,  _delicious_ potential. It seems to sing, the Tesseract, hums on a note I can barely hear but which I feel along the bone behind my ear. I am drawn closer, as I always am to such things. It rarely works out well for me.

"She wants to show us something!"

The voice breaks into my reverie and I fear my startlement is hidden only by Selvig's preoccupation with the Tesseract. His eyes are blue, blue,  _blue,_ and his face is shining. He was always so eager to study  _everything,_ and I found him a kindred spirit. Even though I know better, I briefly hesitate. I don't want to lose his respect, even though I never truly had it in the first place.

_Oh, you're better than this, Loki._

I step closer. I think he would normally guess my intent, but as it is now, he does not. My magic is such a strange thing, more symbolic gestures than anything. I want to sever a connection between minds and places, which means I look for points where connections are thinnest. On a human, this is the place on their necks where the veil between what is within -- their lifeblood, which is useful in many spells -- and what is without -- the world around them. I understand it on an instinctive level, but I do not think I could ever explain it. Perhaps it is just the method I use to direct my focus. My placing one finger above the pulse is transitory, for the heart changes every second. The spine is that which holds the body together, and my placing a finger here is stationary.

I send a flicker of energy through my fingertips and use the path it takes through Selvig's body to find the dark mass of twisted purpose which is the Stone's influence. I set something like an anchor on his spine -- for the spine is already an anchor -- and use it to hold his consciousness steady while it

_snap_

_release_

regains itself.

I quickly take a step back. I don't think it will truly make me seem less threatening, but the gesture may be appreciated later.

Selvig shakes his head, looking confused. "What am I doing?" He isn't looking at me, and has likely forgotten I am even here.

"Something quite clever," I say, as gently as I can without being condescending.

He jerks back anyway, eyes wide, hands out front and fingers splayed.

(Symbols. The innate desire to defend oneself manifested in gestures used to ward off evil for centuries. There is a certain magic to instinct.)

"Loki," Selvig breathes in horror.

I am annoyed to find myself disappointed by his very logical reaction to seeing the man who enslaved his will. I knew how this would be. But I'll be damned if I don't fight it.

"I know you won't believe me, but I was corrupted by the scepter too," I explain quickly. His eyes narrow. "I remember watching you do something to the portal, and I remember pushing the thought down so Th-- so he did not see. I assume you did the same. Is there a way to close the portal?"

Selvig squints. His eyes shift up and to the left. "I...I think so. I studied the scepter, as best I could, and I think placing it between the Tesseract and the siphon reactor will shut everything down." He smiles briefly. "I didn't think I was in control, but I was, wasn't I?"

"You're human, aren't you?" I mutter, crouching down to study the portal device.

"And what's that supposed to mean?" Selvig scoffs.

I look up at him. "Humans are the most indomitable beings in all the known universe." I smile -- it is likely more full of teeth than it should be -- and shrug. "And I know for a fact that in many places beyond the known universe, you have the rest of us beat there too."

Selvig opens a control panel and fiddles with the switches. "Then why try to take over Earth?"

“Did I?” I ask pointedly. “I must say, I made rather a mess of it.” I wonder if that was my little bit of rebellion, akin to Selvig’s work on the portal device.

I look down.

_Ah!_

I can see the modification built into one of the rings. The shield is powered by the Tesseract, making it impenetrable, but the shield is _generated_ by a device made with the same energy signature as the scepter. The shield should recognize it as familiar and let it pass. And once it has, the unique Stone will disrupt the siphon reactor.

I rock back on my heels. I can’t hold the scepter again; I must have someone else bring it. Fury would definitely never order such a stupid thing, and I do not have the time to convince him of my sincerity.

I must either steal the scepter, or find someone easier to convince.

Selvig draws his shoulders back. “What happened to Thor?” The words come quickly and in a burst as though he has been meaning to ask them for quite some time.

_...Thor._

_Much easier to convince._

“Oh, he’s fine,” I say, rising to my feet. “Bit roughed up, to be perfectly honest, but he’ll manage.”

Selvig crosses his arms. “You said you had a plan for his arrival.”

“I did.”

  
“Like you had a plan for me? For Barton? For anyone else involved in New Mexico?”

  
I tilt my head. Selvig is quite perceptive.

  
“What about Jane?”

  
_Ah._

  
This demand is the most desperate, the most pressing.

  
“SHIELD sent her to a secure facility when you and Barton were taken. I believe there was an observatory in Tromso she had expressed an interest in.”

  
Selvig’s eyes are wide, and his fingers clutch his arms so tightly they are white. “You…knew?” he whispers.

  
“Of course,” I say, confused. “The files were easy enough to obtain, and Barton filled in the details which are always missing in a written report.”

  
“Then why didn’t you—”

“She was not my concern. The world does not actually revolve around my brother, you know.” I look back at the portal device. “I don’t have time for this,” I murmur.

Outraged, Selvig snaps, “She’s my goddaughter!” He is angry, and still focused on Jane Foster, which is understandable, but…inconvenient, at the moment.

“And you do her credit. But unless we close this portal, she won’t be anyone’s anything. I cannot wield the scepter, and you can understand why Fury would not bring it here himself. I need someone who—”

Oh.

I twist my wrist, unfolding the pocket of space-time I’d wrapped around the radio I had taken from the Helicarrier. It falls into my palm and I make sure the spell is still linking it to the Quinjet. “Agent Henley.”

Her voice is decidedly unimpressed. “God, what is it now?”

“It’s like humans have no concept of fear,” I mutter before pressing the button and telling her, “The portal isn’t open yet, but it will be if I don’t get the scepter here. For obvious reasons, I can’t do that myself.”

“Yeah, you expect me to believe that?”

“No.” I sigh. I hand the radio to Selvig. “You explain it,” I tell him. I close my eyes and concentrate.

Selvig fumbles with it. “And how do _I_ know you aren’t still in my head?”

I distinctly remember my mother telling me it was impolite to curse in front of someone you have wronged.

I take advantage of the fact that Selvig does not speak Archaic Alfheimr, and do it anyway.

It is rather satisfying on an incredibly petty level.

I focus on Thor’s energy signature, which is almost impossible to miss, and quickly picture a path between me and him. My tutor told me that this was not the way magic is done, and the Shifting Labyrinth implied that it was but a partial way of doing things, but—

I Walk forward and find myself standing before my brother.

—I always did like doing things my way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well lookit that, a new chapter, and it (sort of) is a timely update! Hopefully I can keep myself on schedule. Let me know what you all think, especially regarding Loki's pov. I'm still not sure all how this particular iteration of Loki thinks...
> 
> (Also, I am in effect rewriting the end of the Avengers which is more of an undertaking than I'd expected. Not sure why. I JUST WANT TO WRITE TONY AND LOKI IN A MASSIVE TOWER-WIDE PRANK WAR OKAY. Oh, it's late. I need to use the sleep.)
> 
> (sept 22, 2017)


	4. Brothers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Loki and Thor have a conversation, and Loki remembers a different conversation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heads up: I changed a lot of canon from the first Thor movie. This is intentional.
> 
> Also, I just whipped this out in like 2 hours so it may not be the most coherent.

Thor is, as ever, wildly pleased to see me, even when he raises Mjolnir and prepares to hit me with it. I stay where I am, hands held reassuringly in front of me, and smile. "Brother."

"You will not win this day," he warns, looming over me.

I grin. "Not even if we are on the same side?"

Thor narrows his eyes. "What game are you playing now? How could I trust you after what you did?"

_Such an Odinson response, only feeling regret over a death when it personally wounded you._ I clear my throat. "I saved Coulson." Mjolnir lowers. "I...I was not myself. In Germany, on the mountain...I will explain later, if you wish, but for now know that Doctor Selvig has built a failsafe into the portal, and it can be closed."

"And how do I know that you're telling the truth?"

"Go to the Helicarrier; see Coulson with your own eyes. Not even I could fake that. And once you believe me, you must bring the scepter to Stark's tower. It can close the portal and keep the Chitauri from invading Midgard."

There is absolutely  _no_ way he can refuse. He wants his brother back too much.

_I don't think I'll ever be able to tell him of what happened after I fell._

* * *

 

_I had been completely unable to believe Odin truly desired Thor to take the throne, yet as the time drew nearer he made no motion of retracting his decision. I had been busy traveling to the other Realms, enjoying my studies, and that was my only excuse as to why I had not noticed how bad things had become. I had tried to reason with my father, I had tried asking Mother to reason with him for me, all to no avail. Thor, who had not yet been made to learn restraint, was going to become king of Asgard._

_Pressed for time as I was, I could only scramble for a solution which lacked..._

_(sanity_

_suitability_

_a reasonable chance of succeeding)_

_...many things. I knew the rotation of the Einherjar -- likely because it hadn't changed one shift in my entire life -- and I knew where they would all be during the coronation. I knew the weaknesses of Heimdall's blindness, and I knew one thing that would change my father's mind._

_Jotunheim._

_I'd done a bit of study on the realm of the frost giants after I had stumbled across one of her mirror realms in the world Below. It was a fascinating realm, really, except for the part where Laufey seemed to be everything I worried Thor would become. Laufey had been a great warrior when he was younger, and when he became king he had set out to make Jotunheim great. He'd done it by declaring war on the defenseless realm of Midgard._

_Norns, I could not let Thor do the same. He was too trusting, too naive, and far, far too easily led by the cunning diplomats of court._

_(I would know. I had led him into more traps than I'd gotten him out of.)_

_Laufey's punishment had been severe; his powers had been collected into the Casket of Ancient Winters, which was then closed away in the vaults of Asgard. He had been forced to sign a treaty with Asgard, and the other eight realms had shunned Jotunheim. Without any source of trade, with most of their warriors -- many of whom had been great magicians or scholars -- dead, Jotunheim had floundered in poverty for as long as I could remember._

_Laufey would do anything for the Casket._

_Odin would do anything to keep him from getting it._

_Thor would do anything to prove his readiness as a warrior._

_Asgard would do anything Thor wanted._

_It would be easy, so easy, to start a war on Jotunheim. I had warned Odin of this and he had not listened, so I would prove it._

_It went just as I expected, except for the part where Heimdall did not stop us from going to Jotunheim. For Norn's sake, he had personally witnessed the treaty! He knew Asgard's warriors were forbidden from stepping foot on Jotunheim, just as the frost giants were not permitted on Asgard. I could play on that, I supposed, as we traveled with the Bifrost. I could point out that our two realms were equal in transgression, and if -- when -- we retreated, all could be forgotten._

_Odin would see._

_But no, Thor had to retaliate for an insult, and we had to fight our way out, and I faltered and--_

_and--_

_The rest was a blur. Getting out, standing in the Observatory while Father shouted, watching as Thor was banished. I felt nothing. Numb._

_Frozen._

**_Frost giant._ **

_I reverted to the familiar, gathering information. I confirmed that I was a frost giant, and Odin confirmed my worst fears: that I was little more than a pawn._

_I knew politics. I knew Jotunheim deserved recompense. That the Nine Realms were watching, and Asgard could not afford to falter. Odin would have to give them something._

_It would make sense to return a prince. As a gesture of good will, and as a marvelous stroke of cunning, Odin would have an Asgardian by training on the throne of Jotunheim. It would cement his rule over the frozen wasteland._

_I refused to accept it._

_My plan was simple: Take the Casket from the Vault, smuggle it into Jotunheim, and persuade Laufey and his sons to accept it as a wereguild for their fallen warriors. However, on my way to the Vault I heard Thor's voice, pleading for me to come._

_I could hardly refuse him. I skipped along the many branches of Yggdrasil until I found a path which led me to my brother. He had found refuge with a woman of Midgard, one who had studied the stars for years of her short life. She beheld everything with a wide-eyed wonder and was endlessly fascinated with all the stories Thor had told._

_Of course he'd fallen in love with her._

_And, as Thor in love tends to do, he acted rashly in an attempt to impress her. He hadn't, apparently, thought his banishment was real, and still believed he had all his powers. Being beaten by a few of Midgard's soldiers had taught him otherwise. He was still angry, still furious, and wanted me to bring him back to Asgard._

_He'd learned nothing._

_I panicked._

_I feared if he returned, I would be a spare, unneeded, and Odin would still get rid of me. I could hardly blame Asgard's king; it's what I would do in his place. I told Thor he could not come home, Walked back to Asgard and discovered the Warriors Three and Lady Sif on their merry way to "rescue" Thor._

_..._

_I was angry._

_Did they know_ nothing  _of what they risked? Did they think the songs of battle were all there is to war? How could they think of subjecting their friends and family to bloodshed and death?_

_When Odin blocked the way the frost giants had used to sneak into the Vault, I took the Casket and made my way to the Observatory. Heimdall was waiting for me, and he would not let me pass. Thor and his friends appeared, against Odin's_ direct  _orders, and immediately tried to stop me. I resisted, convinced I knew best. I took the sword from Heimdall and activated the Bifrost, but Thor kept me from going to Jotunheim._

_We fought, and at the end I lay there, watching the way Thor's friends regarded me with distaste, how Heimdall watched me with distrust, how Thor had taken it upon himself to instruct me of all the ways I had gotten everything wrong._

_(Whoever that woman was, she'd made him grow up, and while part of me would always be thankful, most of me simply hated her.)_

_I looked at the way Asgard looked at me, and I couldn't take it another second._

_Odin began pronouncing my punishment, and I dove off the edge of the Bifrost._

_I thought I'd woven a path to Jotunheim, only in my_

_(anger_

_sadness_

_rage)_

_distraction I'd mistaken the path. I awoke on a cold, barren rock, facing creatures I had never seen before nor even heard of._

_They...strengthened me, in a way. In their quest to find a path to Asgard, they taught me just how much I could withstand. It was more than I'd thought. I must have been easy, after a while, to sway with the Mind Stone. I wanted to have won. To be useful._

_Thanos made sure I was._

* * *

 

Thor has an annoying way of making me  _feel_ things.

(I suppose it's because I love him.)

He stares at me for a little while, Mjolnir held casually at his side. He forgets about it, sometimes, and how threatening it makes him look. Bless. "You are telling the truth?" he asks at last.

I valiantly resist the urge to roll my eyes. "Yes." This is taking too long.  _I've got it._ "And I  _need_ you to retrieve the Stone and seal the portal, before the Chitauri can wreak their havoc on Midgard. It is up to you to defend this realm."

And Thor, bless him, is actually flattered enough to nod seriously and take to the skies.

Clearly, he still needs me around to point out when someone is manipulating him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, Loki, you sweet idiot...  
> (I wanted this iteration to have a different backstory; you'll see why eventually. He's still prone to mischief and instinctively tricks his way into everything, but he's at least coming from a better place than canon Loki. It's almost as though he's met someone who showed him how much of a fool he was being...)
> 
> A huge thank you to everyone who's left kudos or commented or whatever. I haven't forgotten this, I swear, time just gets away from me. Thanks for putting up with the awfully slow updates!
> 
> (also, I'm doing NaNoWriMo, which SHOULD mean I don't write anything else during November, but...uh...yeah, i'm procrastinating on that, surprise surprise. Just...I have an excuse for longer spaces between chapters, now.)


	5. Earth's Mightiest Heroes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki remembers Stuttgart, and I pretend I'm good at dropping hints.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unreliable narrator, thy name is Loki.

I stand there on the hill for a long moment.

  
My eyes close. I tilt my head, listening. The wind carries the sounds of the city, life abundant and lives continuing on their merry ways without any idea what horrors waited for them behind only the thinnest of curtains. I think of the wretched stagnancy of Asgard and the brute strength of the dangers waiting beyond the Nine Realms. I think of the World Below, and I think of—

  
I open my eyes.

The paths I could take splinter into a beautiful chaotic mess as they always do. I know what I want.

(I try to forget what I _really_ want)

If I intend to shape the Avengers into a force capable of fighting Thanos, it will require a great deal of painful and annoying honesty on my part. I will have to explain many things about how my magic works, and I will probably need to do damage control for the things I have done, even if they believe me about being under Thanos' influence. I have not worked with humans before, and the last time I tried working with a race I'd never worked before I ended up embarrassing myself. In a way, it would be easier to bypass them entirely, but..

The Earth is centrally located on any map. In those of Asgard, Midgard is pictured in the middle of the World Tree, Yggdrasil. In the Underground, it is depicted as the nucleus from which all splinters of the many kingdoms originate. And on Earth itself, New York is usually the center of much of world trade. Being here would have its advantages.

I close my eyes again and let the pace of the nearby city rush over me. It is so hurried and tangled, everyone's motivations wrapped up in each other's and yet the underlying apathy seethes like a roiling river. I could spend the rest of my life in this city and still there would be things to occupy my thoughts, to drive my focus. When Thanos is beaten, and Odin passes whatever judgment he deems necessary...

  
_I shall stay here,_ I think.

  
I am smiling as I retrace the path I had woven back to the Tower. Agent Henley has arrived with the Quinjet, and she and her agents are surrounding the portal like so many ineffective bodyguards. It’s honestly adorable. Doctor Selvig is scowling at the portal as though it has personally offended him, which to be fair…it has.  _I shall have to make amends for that._

  
Agent Henley looks up and frowns at me. “So you got a plan for this?” she asks.

(Demands)

  
_I thought I’d let Thor hit it and enjoy the ensuing sparks._ “Yes,” I say. “Do you have any idea what you would be doing if that portal opened?”

  
She glances up into the beautiful blue sky. “Shoot whatever comes out.”

  
I shrug. “Simple, easy to remember. I like it.”

  
The sky darkens.

  
I smile.

  
“Plan B has arrived.”

  
And _damn_ my timing couldn’t have been better if we’d rehearsed it. Thor lands heavily on the Tower, a crack of thunder echoing in the sky. He holds Mjolnir in one hand and the scepter in the other. “Brother,” he nods. “Erik Selvig.” He walks towards the portal, footsteps heavy, brow furrowed in determination.

  
I have _absolutely no idea_ if what I’m feeling for him is love or annoyance. We must be brothers after all.

  
Doctor Selvig raises a hand. “Are you sure about this?”

 

“I have every faith in the man my brother used to be,” Thor says. He means it.

  
I could say _And if it doesn’t work, he can handle the Chitauri._ I could say _I have every intention of becoming an older, mature version of that man._ I could say _I will prove Nicholas Fury wrong about me if it is the last thing I do._ I could say _I want Thanos dead and I need the Avengers for that._

  
But those truths are not ones these people have earned, and I say nothing.

  
I watch Thor raise the scepter — he’s not even affected by the blasted thing — and press it forward through the shield around the portal device. The Stone slips between the Tesseract and the device. There is a sudden quiet like just before a thunderstorm, and then a wave of power ripples out.

  
Thor is left holding the Scepter and blinking at the portal device. “Now what?”

  
Doctor Selvig yanks out several wires. Before he can endanger himself further, I dart forward and slide out the piece holding the Tesseract. Carefully, without touching it, I set it down on the ground and back away.

  
(There exist people in the universe to whom this would be a rather obvious show of “good will” and said people would immediately be suspicious.

  
These are not those people.)

  
“You were telling the truth,” Agent Henley says in surprise.

  
I bite down the instinct to tell her that as I am still _breathing,_ I am still quite capable of lying. That wouldn’t help anyone, least of all me.

  
Besides which, Thor is beaming at me and I dare you to find someone so blackhearted as to deny him his moment of happiness. _I_ certainly won’t be ruining it.

  
Doctor Selvig switches from frowning at the Tesseract to frowning at me. “About everything?”

  
“Yes, she’s fine,” I answer his unspoken question absentmindedly, trying to figure out how to tell Fury about Thanos.

  
“Who is fine?” Thor asks. He lets the scepter fall to the ground and the clatter of it makes me wince.

  
I wave a hand. “Miss Foster. She was placed into protective custody when I showed up, though I doubt she knows that.”

  
“You knew where Jane was, and you did not harm her?” Thor sounds surprised and when I look up he is smiling at me again. “Brother, the strength it takes to resist such evil influence is great indeed! Truly, I have more hope for you now than ever I did.”

  
_Oh Norns bless him for he is young and somehow still naive._

  
_(She would call it a strength._

  
_But you’re not allowed to think about her._

  
_Are you, Loki?)_

  
I nod, a bit less graceful than I would have liked. I sense an incoming presence and the low whine of jets. I recognize the sound.

* * *

  
  
_I made my way through the grand staircases and ornate balconies. It was amusing, if anything, how Midgard had the same kind of empty grandstanding as Asgard. I thought Thor would probably be confused by the comparison, and my fingers tightened on the scepter. Thor did not matter. With the Mind Stone in my grasp, I had more power than he would ever have. Never again would I have to fear what he would do. Blue washed over my vision and I felt a calm in knowing exactly what to do._

  
_“Ready for you,” Barton’s voice crackled in my ear._

  
_It was laughably easy to disable the two bodyguards surrounding Schafer, and even easier to subdue the human scientist. I knew they were fragile, but I had not thought all humans to be so weak._

  
_(Perhaps the Queen had skewed my perceptions a bit.)_

  
_As I used SHIELD’s pretty little trinket to scan Schafer’s eye, I thought of the useless waste it would have been to use the other version Barton had offered. I could always use more lackeys to do all the gruntwork, and they certainly worked better if they had both eyes._

  
_(Deep within, from the intangible connection of the scepter, I could sense Thanos wondering if that was my only motivation. I laughed a little to myself, knowing it would be caught on the cameras I had already spotted. What other motivation could I possibly have?)_

  
_“Got it,” Barton said._

  
_I pushed Schafer to the floor and he scrambled away. Poor little human, so terrified._

  
_…_

  
_That would be my angle, then._

  
_I strode outside, letting the glamor concealing my armor fall away. The gala attendants scattered like ants. Norns, this was going to be easier than I’d thought._

  
_And where in the Nine were the Avengers? They should have picked up my face by now. I needed to stall._

  
_If there was one thing I could do, it was talk without saying anything._

  
_I corralled the humans and began a speech similar to the one I had given Fury back at the SHIELD base, a speech I had lifted almost entirely from ones Thanos and the Other had given me._

  
_But in the middle of it, and older man took a breath and got to his feet. I would have to make an example of him. Through the blue haze of the scepter I could see so many ways of doing so. Most of them were violent. I took the time to talk to him._

  
_Overhead, I could hear the quiet hum of five engines. I heard rapid, quiet footsteps approaching from the side. They had finally arrived._

  
_I did not know where the words came from, but I pointed the scepter at the standing human. “Look to your elder,” I called. “Let him be your example.”_

  
_Inwardly, I wondered at the example this would be. I knew the soldier would protect him. I was planning on it. I needed the people to think I had been beaten, so when I overcame these so-called Avengers, they would not think anyone else capable of saving them._

  
_Yet…was that all?_

  
_I charged the scepter with power and shot it towards the defenseless human._

  
_What else could it be?_

  
_The blast from the scepter collided with an ostentatious shield borne by a man wearing an even more ridiculous costume. “The last time I was in Germany and someone thought he was above everyone else, we ended up not getting along.” He had an open, honest face that reminded me of Thor._

  
_“The soldier,” I hissed. Scrambled for the words which would bring him to his knees. I wanted suddenly to hurt him, despite everything I had planned._

  
_**Sentiment will be your downfall,** Thanos growled in my mind._

  
The only downfall will be trying to win this fight and ignoring the need to win the war _, I growled back, and threw myself into causing as much visible damage as I could. I took out the Quinjet, exploded several vehicles, threw the Captain into a lightpole and—_

  
_I sensed a presence growing closer, something that registered in my jaw behind my ear. Someone approaching through the air, then, like Th—_

  
_I could hear the low whine of jets._

  
_Nearby speakers crackled to life and an aggravating noise filled the air. Norns, did this really pass for music here?_

  
_Either way, this would be a good time to surrender. I waited for Iron Man to get into position and let my ornate armor fade away, leaving behind the more sturdy set that I had fashioned while with the Chitauri._

  
_Look at me, hands in the air without my big cumbersome cape. I must be helpless._

  
_And they actually_ bought _it._

  
_Fools._

* * *

  
  
I turn to face Iron Man just in time to see him alight on the landing pad. His faceplate rises and he regards me with skepticism. How clever of him. “So I guess you’re on our side now?” As he walks forward, mechanical arms rise up to remove his armor. It’s a gaudy display meant to catch the eye and he likely designed it thinking no one except himself would see it. The showmanship of it reminds me of someone else.

  
I smile.

  
_I shall stay here,_ I think to myself again.

  
Now I only have to convince everyone else of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, guess who still isn't working on her NaNo?


	6. A Magazine or Something

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Which is far too full of politics and my completely-made-up Infinity Stones backstory.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to the post on tumblr that says "stop what you're doing and go write three sentences on whatever story you're working on" because I wrote three sentences, kept writing, and an hour later I had the rest of the chapter ready to go.
> 
> Bless that post.
> 
> (she says, under her breath, through gritted teeth)

I absentmindedly drum my fingertips on the table. Though random at first, eventually I recognize that I've been humming an Underground song under my breath and counting out the steps with my fingers.

(Magic in the Underground is so intrinsically tied to music that most dances are spells in and of themselves, let alone the millennia of meaning woven into the music and the words and the steps.)

It's one that Si--

One that I used to sing often.

I stop.

I  _could_ pick up the handcuffs that the SHIELD agent had left on the table. I could manipulate the locking mechanism with my magic and probably phase them through the little bar welded to the table. I could do quite a few tricks with these, actually. The lock is quite simple and I could pick it even without magic. If I intend to stay on Midgard -- Earth -- then knowing how to escape these common restraints would be useful indeed.

But how would that look? I am sure Director Fury and Agents Hill and Coulson are busy arguing over what to do with me, and they have neither the time nor desire to watch me twiddle my thumbs. But I know they have left at least two agents to watch me (three, counting Henley, who volunteered) and they can replay the recordings at will. Such a cavalier disregard for my bonds might be taken as an insult, and I have spent enough of my lifetime crafting them to know people invariably react negatively to such things.

On the other hand, showing that I don't care that they know I could escape at any time, and that I am here of my own volition (again) would demonstrate an honesty at odds with their perception of me.

I think of the biggest threat.

Agent Romanoff.

If I can convince her, I can convince anyone.

I close my eyes and think of it. Assuming she was outside, watching me play with the handcuffs would make me seem...

Bored.

Patient, to a degree.

Mischievous.

Uncaring of how I look.

As though I am up to something.

All of which are true, of course, and none of which I desire to change about myself. I pick up the handcuffs and study them. A child could break these. Thor had said something to that effect and the other agents had smiled. I pick at one of the metal double hooks that edge my armor, peel it off, and straighten it with one hand. Then I fiddle with the lock and have it open in a moment. "Hm." I close the cuffs around me and pick the locks again just as quickly. I cuff my hands behind my back and again the lock does not prove a difficulty.

I set them back on the table and frown at the innocuous pieces of metal. I honestly can't tell if SHIELD using these to restrain me was more of a symbolic gesture or an actual underestimation of my abilities. Or a test?

I think of it:  _waiting on the Tower for SHIELD to arrive, patiently enduring Tony Stark's pointed comments, assuring Agent Henley that the only aftereffects of the Mind Gem would be a sense of confusion that would fade in a few weeks, and that any nightmares or unpleasant dreams would be products of her own imagination and not any lingering influence. Stark finally bringing us inside where he gave drinks to everyone. Smiling at the look of horror on his face when Thor downed an expensive bottle of wine in one gulp. Wondering how Stark had enchanted his building with a Sentinel and how, in the absence of magic, this Jarvis was able to manipulate the doors and electronic devices. Telling Thor that I would explain about the Chitauri and Thanos to Director Fury, and I wasn't inclined to repeat myself so he would have to wait until then. Nonchalantly tossing rolled up pieces of napkin at Fa--Odin's ravens whenever they flew by the balcony._

I could have escaped the entire time, and I hadn't. How would I react to being restrained, stuffed into the Quinjet, and loaded back onto the Helicarrier, where I would be shoved into a chair in an interrogation room and left to my own devices for hours?

I grin, suddenly, wide and delighted at the camera in the corner. "Well played, Agent Romanoff." I leaned back in the chair and let the grin soften, my genuine amusement showing. "I'll bet an opened door you still don't know what I want."

The door opens and Agent Romanoff steps inside, expression inscrutable.

There's a reason no one bets against me anymore.

She sits down at the other chair and folds her hands on the table. She is the very picture of unimpressed. "And what is it you want?"

"Firstly, to not explain myself multiple times. I would be happy to answer once Director Fury, Thor, and any other interested parties arrive."

She smirks. "You're not in any position to bargain."

I begin to respond and then I remember something and catch my breath. "Oh...Mother's going to kill me." I wince. "I apologize for calling you a...a--" I cough, clear my throat.

"Mewling quim?" she finishes with a raised eyebrow. "I've been called worse."

"Well  _that's_ no excuse. Beyond being untrue -- and I shall be having  _words_ with my subconscious, idiotic self -- I shouldn't have said it."

She leans back. It's a deliberate expression of relaxation, meant to put someone at ease. She must know I know that she is still on guard.

(Symbolic gesture?)

"No, you shouldn't have," she agrees. "Why did you?"

This is embarrassing. "In my defense, you were crying, and I was foolishly arrogant enough to think it was genuine. Most of my plans usually work, and I suppose I hadn't considered that the same must be true of you." I shake my head, eyes falling to the table. "Ridiculous, really. The Queen would have my head."

"Queen Frigga?" And Romanoff is truly curious, regardless of whatever angle she is pursuing in this interrogation.

I wave a hand. "No, a friend of mine from another realm. She was underestimated once and rather spectacularly proved her adversary wrong. She enjoys pointing out when others underestimate her or people like her. I should know better."

Romanoff cocks her head. "So you're sorry for making a mistake?"

_I'm sorry for everything._

"Well, yes," I answer automatically. "I'm sorry for more than that as well, of course." I think of Coulson, of Selvig, of Thor's face when he fought me on the Bifrost. "Given the chance, I will make amends, that I swear on my name."

"Not sure how much that's worth."

Ah. I'd forgotten Midgard's ignorance of magic.

"There are few greater vows a magician can make. A name can be used in so many spells, enchantments, and curses. True names are trusted to but a handful, and a promise made on a name cannot be broken without breaking the name -- that is, the very essence of the magician themselves." I thought on it for a little longer. "To be fair, names are of more power in some Realms than they are in others. Midgard, for example, has crushed most of her magic for centuries, and the earth does not fuel very many workings anymore. Asgard has deliberately reduced the power of magic, Alfheim's rulers are bound to earth magic as opposed to other types, and the Underground functions almost entirely on the old ways -- blood, sweat, tears, names, and hearts."

Romanoff blinks once. "You're being pretty open with information," she says at last.

Likely she means to point out that I have not revealed my intentions yet. "I told you I would answer Fury's questions, and I told Thor I would answer his. It would be easier to do both at the same time." I've said this before.

"And you don't think I will tell Fury what you say?" Again, she seems genuinely curious. And again, this isn't a topic she is truly interested in.

"I have no doubt you will." I hesitate, not sure which way I want to take in dealing with this.

Fury's voice buzzes through the device in the wall. "Romanoff, a word?"

I frown. Romanoff is wearing an earpiece. Fury did not need to voice his intentions aloud. What reason could he have for stating them? My instinctive response is that of mistrust, but...perhaps he is going for transparency?

Romanoff shrugs and rises.

I drum my fingers on the table once. "You do know we are on a timetable?"

Romanoff stops. She looks over her shoulder at me and raises an eyebrow. "And you didn't mention this before?"

"I thought you  _knew."_ I stand. "The being who wanted Midgard burned is not dead. He will try again, and his goals are loftier than the simple destruction of a single planet."  _Time for self-deprecating humor?_ "At the time I, of course, thought he meant to rule, which was incredibly short-sighted of me." I shake my head as though to clear it. "He is talented at manipulation, and used me to gain a foothold here. Or, at least he would have."

This is getting repetitious and annoying. "I have already said some of this, I need to speak with Fury about the rest of it."

Romanoff nods once, and leaves the room.

I sit back down in the chair and stare at the pair of handcuffs on the table. I remember something Fury said and smile in spite of myself. "I don't suppose I could get that magazine now," I murmur quietly.

 

* * *

 

In the end, I only sit in the interrogation room for a few minutes before Fury enters, followed by Thor, Agent Romanoff, and Agent Coulson. I'm not sure how he manages it, but Fury carries his own chair inside and somehow doesn't lose any of his presence while unfolding it. Thor prefers to stand, and I don't think Agent Coulson will be sitting in my presence for quite some time. Fury and Romanoff sit down across from me.

I relate the entire sorry story -- how I fell to the Chitauri homeworld (this involves explaining to Thor where exactly it was, which was "not part of the Nine Realms," an answer which does not fully satisfy him) and how Thanos twisted me to serve him (which involved explaining to Romanoff a bit of how Thanos and the Other use telepathy augmented by the Mind Gem to magnify certain desires and plant false memories, whereupon I had to tell Thor that I had begun to remember him _throwing_ me off the Bifrost, which meant I had to then explain to Fury why we were fighting on the Bifrost in the first place, which led to the surprising revelation that Odin was actively negotiating with Jotunheim in hopes of abolishing the treaty and allowing them to take their rightful place in the Nine Realms, which meant I had to explain to Fury why that was surprising, and in doing so pointed out Asgard's innate pride and racism towards literally everyone else, which, I said, explained but did not excuse my behavior on Midgard) and how I seemed to have spent most of my time on Midgard subconsciously fighting his control, the way Agents Barton and Henley had.

I thank Coulson once more for releasing me from the Stone's influence, to which he responds: "I'd be more than happy to shoot you again any time you like."

I smile.

He doesn't.

Then I explain my speculation on Thanos' future actions, how he will not rest until he has brought all of the Nine Realms into ruin, and how he seeks the five Infinity Stones to do so. This, of course, requires explaining what the Infinity Stones  _are._

"Long ago, in a realm beneath the Nine, there was a being of immense power. No tales are told of its beginning, and some say it had none."

Fury mutters, "And here I thought a Norse god masquerading as a Hitler wannabe was the strangest thing in the universe."

"You can thank Barton for that," I say with a nod. Romanoff narrows her eyes. "Go to Germany, he said. Captain America's biggest enemy was in Germany, he said. If you prove worse than Hitler, people will be afraid of you, he said." I shake my head, unable to keep from grinning. "Masterfully done, really."

Thor is frowning, clearly still confused by something I said. "Are you talking about the Norns?"

I sigh heavily. "No, Thor, I said  _beneath_ the Nine, as in  _separate_ from the Nine. Aside from which, there are many tales told of the Norns' beginning. Most are complete fabrications of course--"

"And you'd know," Romanoff interjects.

_(I tilt my head and ask her to clarify--)_

_(I grin as widely as I can and add a distracting flamboyant gesture--)_

_(I lean forward and answer in the most serious voice I can muster--)_

_(I only laugh--)_

In the brief hesitation where I think of all the different ways I could respond to that, she raises one eyebrow and finishes, "You being Liesmith and all."

_You've done your research._

_You hadn't when we first met._

_What changed?_

_What made you scramble for knowledge, for secrets, for names?_

_Are you afraid of me, Agent Romanoff?_

I smile, and I know I am going to have to work on keeping my smiles from getting too "sharp," as the Queen once said. "I'm flattered," I say dryly. I lean back in my chair once more. "As I was saying, despite no one knowing how it got here, at some point something more powerful than even the Norns -- the Fates themselves -- made its way into the realm of mortals."

"You mean Earth?" Coulson asks.

"No. I mean... realm is the wrong word, perhaps. It is more of...of an existence, a reality. Here -- and on Asgard, and Alfheim, and the Underground, and Midgard, and the like -- is where the living reside. There is also Nornheim, where dwell the Norns, and Helheim, where dwell the dishonored dead, and Valhalla, where dwell the honored dead. Or anyone who died and happened to be related to the kings of Asgard, to be honest. 'Honored' and 'dishonored' are more of--" I clear my throat. "Not that my opinion on the politics of the dead matters right now. The point is, these make up our universe in all its complexity."

"What you call the Nine Realms," Romanoff says.

I nod. "Exactly. This...whatever it is, came from beyond that. I don't know how, and I  _hate_ not knowing, so you can be sure I have thoroughly searched all Yggdrasil's libraries for information on it. All we know is that it is not from here, and that once it arrived, it spawned five other lesser beings. The original faded with the weight of the millenia, but its 'children', to use a terribly inadequate word, remained. The first had an interest in the nature of reality itself, and it created a force that could not be defined, contained, or destroyed. Its form is ever changing, and it was lost when Svartalfheim lost the war against Asgard five thousand years ago."

_King Bor probably hid it in a cave somewhere._

_I'll find it eventually._

"The second was fascinated by power, by the ability of others to do things, and how that ability might be augmented. It developed -- as far as I could tell -- a method of drawing energy from anywhere in the universe, for a limitless amount of time, and pouring it out through a small tear in the fabric of reality. If one possessed the fortitude necessary -- by which I mean  _not a mortal --_ one could harness that power and use it for anything you desired. At the moment, a rather nasty individual managed to acquire the Orb and, unable to use it himself, secured it away from the reach of anyone."

_At least it is also beyond Thanos' influence._

"The third's interest in time led to the creation of an intricate device which can manipulate time itself through near-infinite combinations. It is held in the keeping of a..." I searched for the proper words. "A...  _mostly_ moral person. He has his moments of wrath and cruelty, I suppose. However, I have actually seen him throw the Eye of Time at chickens to observe what happens and now no one will eat eggs in his kingdom." I find myself smiling at the memory.

"Friend of yours?" Romanoff asks.

"Yes."

_Except for the part where his cousin and I had a falling out and he, like any sane person, took his cousin's side and now we duel every time we see each other._

"No."

I shift in my chair. "People like me aren't really 'friends' with our peers."

_Much as we'd like to be._

I take a deep breath and continue. "The fourth learned all they could about the stars, about the dark spaces between them, about the paths woven through all the realms. They created a power source for anything that moves or travels, a stipulation which is most easily expanded. The Tesseract was most recently used to generate a portal atop Stark Tower."

"The fifth knew how to manipulate the minds of others, and this instinct and ability they harnessed in the Mind Gem. Thanos acquired it first, and its connection to the other four allowed him to locate the Space Gem."

"Are they gems or stones?" Coulson asks, shifting his weight. "It's just a little confusing."

"They are both and neither. Our languages do not have a proper word for it. Together they are the Infinity Stones, and separately each one is a Gem."

Coulson gives a little smile. "That explains why a spear was called the Mind Gem."

He is wincing, which I notice in spite of his admirable attempts to hide it, and I remember the red splatters on the scepter. I soften my voice. "The Gem is the blue stone in the tip; the scepter simply makes it easier to wield." I pause. "I  _am_ sorry."

He shrugs. "It's in the past."

I glance at Romanoff. Her eyes are shadowed, and I know we are thinking the same thing.

_Acts like that are never in the past._

"So," Fury says abruptly, "this Thanos guy is trying to get the whole set of glowing magical objects so he can what? Blow up a planet?"

I raise my shoulders. "Actually, given that he is in love with Death, yes. He desires to deliver the souls of all living things as a gift to his beloved, which of course requires him to kill all of us. The Infinity Stones are the easiest way to do that."

Fury blinks at me.

Later, I will regret not savoring the moment where I first struck him speechless.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoo! I updated! So... I know where I'm going with this, and why I feel fine changing all these canon things, but how is it for you the readers?
> 
> (Honestly, I'm just happy I wrote this chapter.)
> 
> And! I've now mentioned A Thing at least a couple times, and I added a few more details in this chapter, and I know the Loki fandom knows who it is, so. Anyone want to guess which character is going to appear in the next chapter?
> 
> (Winner gets.... a terribly rushed drabble on any MCU pairing that does not include Brock Rumlow and isn't Thorki.)
> 
> Thank you so much for reading and kudo-ing and commenting!


	7. Better Late Than Never

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki drums his fingers on the table. I talk my way into more plot holes than I thought existed. Romanoff squints at Loki.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyyyyyy, guess who?????  
> ...  
> I am. So sorry.  
> The chapter title is, uh, yeah nothing to do with the story, just me making a lil joke.

* * *

 

"So this Eye of Time," Romanoff says at last. "It's the Infinity Stone Thanos will go after first?"

I nod, pleased with her perceptiveness. "Precisely. Now that Odin has ordered the return of the Tesseract to his vaults, everyone in the Nine will know of its location. Attempts will be made to retrieve it, of course, but--"

Thor frowns. "But the Vaults are impenetrable."

I can't...

I can't honestly tell if it he doesn't realize what he's just said.

I stare at him. "They...  _have_ been breached," I say at last. "Recently." I clear my throat. "You were there."

Thor shrugs. "Yes, but that was  _you,_ brother. No one else could do so."

This interrogation chamber is poorly ventilated; my eyes are watering.

"Flattering as that sentiment may be," I say, "it is incorrect. There are others who could do so, and we must not discount their ability to try." I drum my fingers on the table once more. This time I recognize the pattern as that of what I called in my youth 'Headhunter Monkeys'. They were fond of mischief and singing (not necessarily in that order) and like their goblin cousins, quite an annoyance. And difficult to kill.

I still.

"There is someone I could ask," I say slowly. "His subjects could add an unexpected bolster to the Vault Guard." I think of all the ways it could go wrong. It may, given their innate desire to chew on things, be a terrible idea, but perhaps it would work.

Fury leans back in his chair. "And where is this person?"

I smile. "He's actually the Keeper of the Eye of Time, so I'll only need to make one trip."

Fury huffs a little. "And why should we trust you?"

_You shouldn't._

_It doesn't matter if you trust me or not; I will act any way I wish regardless._

_Because I can't believe I let someone into my head and the embarrassment alone has made me determined to beat him._

_You don't have a choice._

I shrug, spreading my hands wide. "Because you will have to start doing so at some point, and it might as well be now." I catch Romanoff grinning, just a little. I think she likes me. How disconcerting.

Fury clasps his hands on the table. "I hope you can see our position. We have to let you go, you say to talk to some king so his subjects can babysit the Tesseract, because the all-powerful Space Vikings can't protect it. Then, you will talk to this king about a Time Eye, which we've never heard about, and we're supposed to believe that you won't just use it for yourself?"

"Those are...excellent points." I tilt my head. "But if I offered to bring one of your people with me, you would think it a trap." _Of course, now that I've said it, you will think whichever agent you choose will be able to see through the deception._

"Asgard's Vault is not insufficient!" Thor says loudly. "Odin will protect it."

_Oh for the love of Nornheim, is he still worried about that perceived insult?_ "I will not depend on Thanos thinking so." A thought strikes me and I pause. "Then again, he did wait to move until it had resurfaced. Perhaps he was not able to sense it before then. And he has waited so long to find the others..." I frown deeply. "Perhaps he needed the Mind Gem to do so. That would be convenient for us."

Not if it means he can find them all  _now,"_ Coulson points out.

I smile. "But he  _doesn't_ have it. You do."

There is silence in the room for a heartbeat or two, enough for me to realize what I've just said. If I don't trust Asgard to protect the Tesseract, how could I trust Midgard? "Only the Bifrost or a portal generated by the Tesseract can reach this realm. It is beyond the reach of the rest of the Nine."

_Except. A few Pathwalkers such as myself. Most of whom are chaotic at best._

I need to find a different nervous habit; all this drumming my fingers on the table will give me a headache.

I lean back. "I would recommend keeping it away from the populace. The effects of the Mind Gem are..." I glance at Coulson, at Thor. "...pervasive. You will need to find someone you trust not to experiment on it." Which, given their reaction to the Tesseract, is very unlikely. "The place you choose must be impregnable."

Romanoff narrows her eyes. "The place _we_ choose?"

I smile, glad she has picked up on my words. "Two Infinity Stones must not be kept together. Your world has earned the right to keep one of them. And the lot of you are far more naturally suspicious than the rest of the Nine, which means it will not easily sway you."

_("Humans are far more difficult to control than you would think, given their history."_

Ah, but His Highness  _would_ know all about that, wouldn't he?)

"And although I flatter myself I will be able to learn the location, it will take some time before I have. In the interim, it will be safe and out of Thanos' reach."

(Romanoff and Fury lower in my estimation a little, because they seem to actually believe that. As though I won't know immediately where it is. As though if I didn't, it would not take more than one well-placed word to discover. Adorable. Dangerous if that information gets into the wrong hands, but adorable.)

I need to keep everyone on task. "However, the Underground is riddled with pathways and portals. We will need to move quickly, before Thanos is able to get to the Time Gem."

Fury clears his throat. "Once you can show us how you intend to get to this king dude, I will decide which of my agents should go with you."

_That's adorable, as though everyone here doesn't know he means to send Barton and Romanoff._

I raise an eyebrow. "I would use magic, and I could leave now."

"Not good enough."

My understanding his perspective does not lessen the annoyance at this delay. "And what _would_ be good enough?"

Fury smiles. It's oddly threatening, in a near-giddy way that is usually _my_ style. "You explaining all this to Stark and Banner. In detail."

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. I talked my way into a few corners, but I think I got out of them okay? And I realized one of the scenes I had for this story from the beginning will have to change. But it will be better for it.
> 
> And I swear, I'll try to keep posting. The sun's finally out, which means when I go hiking I take breaks far away from any distractions and I actually get stuff done. Yay.
> 
> (Also. Marvel's Infinity War? pfft. terrible fanvid, 3/10 (if only because of Thor "Pirate Angel" Odinson), would not recommend. At all. Now I have motivation for this story beyond all you lovely people: spite. I can do better. I'm actually pretty sure my version of the war with Thanos is going to be better. Eventually.)


	8. Well Then

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not dead?  
> ...  
> Seriously, thank you all so much for your patience. Has it really been since May?  
> Sorry.

* * *

 

It is a little-known fact that the easiest way into a fortress is through the front door.

This may seem obvious, but when a group of warriors are attempting to get past a nigh-impregnable fortress, ideas revolve around smashing their way in or sneaking in through a back entrance. Perhaps it speaks to my vanity more than anything, but I find the idea of being escorted with armed guard through the main gates and into the heart of a fortress quite… appealing. No one ever thinks to wonder if their prisoner wanted to be there. You would think they would question the wisdom of allowing a dangerous individual into their sanctum, and yet…

Why Romanoff assumes I am insulting them when I explain this, I have no idea. Whatever she is thinking, I can not keep from smiling as I am led into Stark Tower.

Through the front door.

* * *

 

The smile fades quickly enough.

* * *

 

Stark questions _everything_ , and Banner eyes me with distrust the entire time. His eyes glaze green a few times, and he keeps at least one piece of furniture or outdated equipment between us at all times.

(I call Stark’s machines ‘outdated’ exactly once and I think I almost witness the phenomenon known as a “heart attack”)

Romanoff says nothing as she stands in a corner watching me attempt to explain simple magical concepts to mortals who do not appear to believe in magic. (How do you not believe in—) I do not know the necessary words to describe World-walking, it just _is_. I do not know the process by which I can conjure my daggers, I simply _can_. This appears to be unacceptable to their scientific minds.

At last, although they use terms like ‘parallel worlds’ and ‘Einstein-Rosen bridge’ and ‘teleport’, Stark and Banner agree that what I was proposing was possible.

...

_Possible._

“High praise indeed,” I say flatly.

A disembodied voice echoes through the room. “It is indeed, for Mr. Stark will not hesitate to try it himself even if it is impossible.”

The fascinating Jarvis. He -- it? -- spoke while I was here last. I still do not know how a human was able to conjure up what seems to be a building enchantment. I am very very curious. Anyone could tell you that is a bad sign. “Who are you?” I ask, addressing the voice in hopes of learning something.

There is the barest hesitation, and then the voice replies, “I am Just A Rather Very Intelligent System, Mr Odinson.” Stark seems to have difficulty not choking on his own saliva. If he isn’t careful the poor man’s face will permanently twist into that ridiculous smirk.

Banner rolls his eyes. “Please tell me that isn’t actually his name.”

“I admit nothing,” Stark says flippantly. “Now let’s get Rudolph to a safe room.”

_(“…locked up, til you might have use of me?”)_

I freeze, all thoughts of whatever computerized voice lingers in the ceiling forgotten. “A what?”

He narrows his eyes at me. “A safe room to create a possibly-unstable portal in. Why, what did you think I meant?”

Stark is oddly perceptive.

I don't like it.

* * *

 

The safe room was apparently created with Stark’s experimentation in mind. The walls are reinforced and should the structural integrity of the room itself be called into question, it will not affect the rest of the building. I nod appreciatively. “This is rather similar to the mages’ practicing chambers, back h— on Asgard.”

_(“Give up this pointless dream! Come home.”_

_"I don't have it.")_

_(I lost home the instant I learned what I was.)_

I grit my teeth. Dwelling on the past is useless.

Stark says, “Thanks. I think. Can never tell with you.”

"If I compliment you, Stark, you will know, just as surely as you will if I insult you." I pretend to focus on the walls while he stares at me and tries to figure out exactly what I meant by that.  _Oh, what fun I shall have with you..._

Banner sighs. “Can we just focus on the work, please?” Stark and I stand upright like a pair of scolded schoolboys, and Banner relaxes a little. “I’ll be monitoring you from outside. We have communications set up, but I don’t know how effective they will be.”

"They will not work, I can tell you this now."

"No harm in trying then, is there?" Stark is adjusting some devices on his wrists and tapping what appears to be monitoring devices scattered around the room.

I get a very bad feeling. “What are you doing?”

“Oh, I’m coming with you,” he says brightly.

I briefly imagine him and the Goblin King in the same room together. Something of my horror must show on my face, because Stark stops what he is doing. For the first time I can remember, I speak without thinking. “That is a terrible idea.”

“Oh?” Romanoff asks. “You don’t want him there?”

“The… the Goblin King has a rather _volatile_ personality. He and Stark should probably be kept away from each other as long as possible.”

_Preferably forever._

Stark presents an offended air. “What, you think I can’t play nice with a foreign dignitary?” The room is silent for a moment. No one meets his eyes. Stark clicks his tongue. “Rude. All of you.”

I shake my head. “No. For this first meeting, you should stay here in case anything happens.”

"Like what?"

“That is what you will stay here to determine.” I regard Romanoff. “Which agents are coming with me?”

She crosses her arms. “Why don’t you guess?”

_No need._

I smile.

* * *

 

It is rather disconcerting to stand next to someone you know for a fact is constantly evaluating how quickly he can jab the nearest pointy object into your eye socket. I catch Barton eyeing a glass of coffee Stark left on one of the tables and repress a shiver. Even more disconcerting is the calm presence of Maria Hill on my other side. I _know_ she must be nervous; she is going to represent SHIELD to a race she didn’t know existed and yet she seems unfazed by any of it.

_Mother would like you._

I glance over at Romanoff. She is smiling at something Stark is doing, apparently at ease.

_Why Fury would risk Hill I have no idea. It doesn’t matter how capable Romanoff and Barton are; they are surely valuable to him. He can’t trust me that much. Or perhaps he doesn’t, and this is his way of ensuring that I am on my best behavior so as to work all the more easily with him next time._

_Well done, really._

Stark claps his hands, jolting me out of my thoughts. “All right children, we are ready for the Bovine Wonder to do his magic.” He waggles his fingers in what I assume is a crude imitation of the arcane gestures I use. Not for the first time, I wonder if he is intentionally insulting or if he simply does not care.

Then I register: “Bovine wonder?” Stark only smirks as I remember a day long ago, firelight dancing across my brother’s face as we teased each other as always. I shrug off the memory and Stark’s particular style of speech.

I _could_ tell my three companions that I have not brought others with me during my Walking for quite some time. That I run the risk of losing one or more of them. (Or one or more of their limbs) That the sensation of folding space and reality around oneself is disorienting at best and has been known to drive some to insanity.

But where’s the fun in that?

I grasp at the gaps in the branches of the World Tree and fix my destination in my mind. I ignore Stark and Banner’s sudden chatter regarding whatever their instruments are picking up. I gather the threads of the three lives around me and weave them into mine.

There are easier ways of traveling between Realms, of course.

But none as sure.

I twist and let the solid weight of Earth fall away to be replaced with the ephemeral mists and visions of the Underground. As soon as my feet touch the earth I can sense the Goblin King’s wards. Far off a clock begins to chime and I subconsciously wait for the thirteenth.

Barton and Romanoff are unsteady on their feet for but a moment, before they look around with wide-eyed wonder.

Hill, on the other hand, stands tall, her brow furrowed just the tiniest bit. Either I wrapped her in more protections against the harsher effects of World-walking or she is far more capable than I thought. Each are equally plausible.

I stare up at the great stone walls of the outer Labyrinth. “Hello, Lady,” I murmur. I feel the deep and ancient power of the Labyrinth settle around my existence. Though I completed her challenge once, I do not believe I bested her. None can.

“That’s a handy trick,” Romanoff comments once she gets her bearings. “Bit weird though.” She checks a device Stark had given her before they left and one corner of her mouth lifts. “No signal.”

 _Is that what_ I  _look like when I smile at everything?_

“As I told you, I did not think there would be. There is no portal through which a signal may travel, unlike at SHIELD headquarters.” I watch closely as Barton stiffens at the memory of falling under the enchantment of the Mind Stone. He pushes the thoughts of failure away and here, of all places, the effort is nearly visible. I can feel the Labyrinth sensing his mind’s defense and settling within her own gardens and pathways.

With training, Barton will be quite adept at shielding his mind from unwanted intrusion. Excellent. He will need it.

“Where’s the door?” Hill asks, voice calm.

“Oh, he likely hid it.” I tilt my head and raise my voice. “Loki Odinson and three companions, to see Jareth and Sarah, rulers of the Goblin Kingdom.” My announcement rings out with the thirteenth clock chime. The stone wall in front of us shifts, and between one blink and the next a door appears. It slides open with a completely unnecessary grating sound. Jareth and Sarah’s love of the dramatic must be rubbing off.

“What kind of a name is Sarah?” Barton wonders.

“A human one,” I reply, stepping forward. “I haven’t the faintest idea what she saw in him, but the Champion is here to stay.” Inside the walls I can feel the monarchs’ close watch on me. Their bond is stronger than I supposed. The way forward is clear enough. In the soft language of Jareth’s people, I tell the Labyrinth, “I shall play by your rules soon enough, Lady. For now we must go directly through your paths.”

The Lady of the Labyrinth has no voice, as befits the vaguely defined spirit of an immortal and sentient maze which protects the borders of an ancient Fae kingdom. But the aura of contentment and _knowing_ , of her tender care for her denizens and fierce protection against anything that would harm them, all give the Labyrinth a presence most define as like that of a Queen. No matter her monarch, the Labyrinth itself is true ruler here. She rather likes Jareth, and she simply adores Sarah, which means she has adopted some of their more spirited characteristics. She enjoys playing with those who wander through.

Or perhaps I am flattering myself and she really could not care less about testing me again.

Nonetheless, I can sense her ignoring us like a great cat laying down for a long nap. Our way forward will be clear today. “My thanks, Stone Lady.”

Romanoff walks beside me. “What language is that?”

"Goblin."

Hill sighs. “And I used to think the strangest thing on Earth was a superhero.”

“It is,” I counter, turning a corner and side-stepping a misleading intersection. “Few things in the universe will stare Death in the face and dare to tell it no.”

Barton snorts. “Death? Or a would-be god?”

I shrug.

* * *

 

Upon reaching the Castle all three humans go quiet. Perhaps they are making note of defenses or merely taking in the grand scale of the walls and the rising towers beyond them. For the first time we see some of the Labyrinth’s citizens, two goblins standing guard in front of the Castle gates. They are, as most of the Castle Guard, wearing Jareth’s black feathered livery. I do not recognize either goblin. “Greetings,” I hail them.

They turn to look at each other. “Was Kingy especting guests?” the shorter goblin asks his partner in what may have been intended to be a whisper.

“No, maybe they’s Queenie’s.” The taller goblin turns a yellow-eyed glare upon us. “What is your business in the Castle?” he shouts. It’s oddly well-enunciated. Sarah must be teaching them how to greet “guests” of the Goblin King.

The thought is more amusing than it should be, given what stories I have heard of the young Sarah Williams’ first run of the Labyrinth. I hold back a smile and say, “I and my companions have business with your King.” I wonder if they will notice that I haven’t answered their question.

They turn to each other again. “Kingy didn’t say to let anyone in.”

_He knows I am here. He is king; he must._

I roll my eyes. “Your king is playing a game. I have not seen him in a while and perhaps he wants to make me wait outside while he arrives in a cloud of glitter.” I hesitate only briefly, then smile. The goblins go very still; perhaps they recognize the underlying threat of it. “The only question is how long he will let me stand here and poke fun at his expense.”

The shorter goblin shakes his sword at me. “You’s not to be poking the King!”

"Aye, that's a rule!"

"Aye!"

I ignore them. “Will he descend from the sky? Perhaps darken it first? One must have the proper background for an entrance, after all.”

Barton mutters, “You’d know all about dramatic entrances, wouldn’t you.”

I raise one shoulder, acknowledging the point. I open my mouth to continue and feel the air bend and twist around itself. I turn on my heel and there he is, the Goblin King in all his armor, ridiculous hair sticking up all over the place in what he insists is the height of fashion. He stands with his hands on his hips and although that is likely intimidating for his little goblins, it makes him look like nothing more than an exasperated housewife.

I bow. “Your Majesty.”

Barton and Romanoff look at each other and then nod their heads. _Does no one understand the niceties anymore? What is the point of being polite?_

Hill, on the other hand, inclines her head. Jareth’s lips spread in a grin. It’s like watching two alphas square off against each other. Or maybe she reminds him of his wife. Who knows?

“My dear friend,” Jareth exclaims. “Welcome to my humble kingdom! It has been far too long indeed since we saw each other.”

I remember. He told me he never wanted to see me again and that he really meant it this time, and that if I was fool enough to return he would send me to the Bog of Eternal Stench. “Has it,” I ask in a flat voice.

His eyes flash. “Yes,” he bites out, smile suddenly gone. “The circumstances of our last meeting left much to be desired.” He lets his hands fall to his side. “I have missed you, truly.”

That--

That I did not expect him to say.

The Fae cannot lie, and although of course he may simply mean he misses someone who can keep up with him and is as prone to insulting someone with compliments as he is…

Perhaps he truly _did_ miss me as much as—

Well I didn’t miss him, of course not.

That would be ridiculous.

“As have I,” I say without thinking. “I wi—” _Norns damn it. Yes, Loki, stumble over your own tongue and nearly tell him, of all people, a wish. Over a thousand years old and you, Liesmith, still speak before thinking. This is getting embarrassing._ “I would have liked to meet under better circumstances, but my Lady Fate has other plans.”

Jareth tilts his head. He looks like an owl when he does that. Why did Sarah marry him again? “Have they anything to do with the recent portal opened Aboveground?”

I spread my hands and smile. “My fault, of course. I hope I did not unsettle things too much Below?”

He waves a hand. “We have survived long before you tripped your way into my maze and we will survive long after you are gone.” His eyes drift to the other three. “My apologies, I should have addressed you long before this. I am the Goblin King.” He bows slightly from the waist. “May I have your names?”

I cough. I forgot how often Jareth tries to trick people into giving him things. Mostly good he may be, but his Fae nature delights in weaving a trap around anyone he encounters. For them to _give_ him their names—

Romanoff is smiling. It is oddly sharp, for how little teeth she shows. Before I can interject, she says, “You may call me Romanoff, and him Barton, and her Hill.” My eyes narrow. She seems to have noticed the way he phrased his question. Not many would.

_Honestly, how long am I going to continue to underestimate her?_

Jareth’s smile is _delighted._ “Ah, Romanoff.” He gives her a bow. “My name is Jareth,” he offers in the manner of one giving a great gift.

_Well. I’m glad he likes her. Truly. This can in no way adversely affect me._

“How did you meet our Loki, if I may ask?” Jareth asks, sweeping around us and up to the gates, which open before him.

Romanoff shrugs. “He insulted a friend of mine and I tricked him into telling me why.”

_I wouldn't say that--_

_Well. I mean. Technically._

I say nothing.

Jareth grins over his shoulder at me and I know he will not ever let me forget it. “Come, come. My wife is unfortunately occupied, or she would be here to greet you herself. We have much to catch up on, Loki. You always get into the most fascinating scrapes. Watching you get out of them again is quite amusing."

_Having friends is the worst._

“And what if I _wanted_  Romanoff to run off and tell Banner?” I mutter to myself, but loudly enough she can hear it. "What if _that_ was the real plan?" Her step falters, but only just. I smile and escort her past the threshold behind Hill and Barton.

“You didn’t,” she says to me as we follow Jareth into his castle.

“I could have.”

“Yeah, but you didn’t,” Barton interjects.

“Honestly, children, could we focus on the task at hand?” Hill asks in exasperation. Poor woman. Dealing with SHIELD agents must be as difficult as herding the Warriors Four into anything even remotely resembling common sense. Witness my empathy.

* * *

 

After Jareth has led us into one of his smaller dining rooms (and Romanoff and Barton have both done a terrible job of not looking suspicious at the food laid out) and I have explained the situation with the Infinity Stones, Jareth assures us the Time Gem is well protected. Whatever Thanos’ powers, fighting the Labyrinth herself is beyond him. This I already knew, but in hearing it Hill relaxes somewhat. More worrying is the location of the Power Gem. No one knows where it is, which means of course that Thanos or his army could find it first. Jareth offers the help of his scholars, and to request the aid of the High Court.

I remember Banner’s ability to quickly locate the Tesseract and wonder aloud if he and Stark would be able to turn their efforts to the Power Gem. Jareth points out that such efforts will draw the attention of not only the Nine Realms, but also those of the Underground who have sought the Power Gem for many long years.

Hill says SHIELD will protect Stark. I manage to keep from laughing. Barely.

Jareth, _slightly_ more diplomatic than I — how married life must be suiting him — says, jokingly, that I would provide a greater protection than anything SHIELD could come up with. I start to object, and then remember my thoughts as I stood on the hill and felt New York sprawl out around me. How I wanted to shape the Avengers into a force actually capable of guarding Midgard. How the chaos — _“the mad scramble for power”_ — draws me in even now. Staying in the Tower to work with Stark would certainly allow me that.

_If I’m honest, I just don’t want to go back to Asgard._

_But when am I ever honest?_

Hill, Romanoff, and Barton all go silent as they stare at me.

“That will not be acceptable, I am sure,” I say with a self-deprecating smile.

_Take the bait, take the bait, oh dear Helheim take the bait._

Hill drums her fingers on the table. My nervous tick seems to be contagious. “You still have a lot to answer for back on Earth,” she says at last.

“Community service?” Barton laughs. “What, are we going to give him an orange jumpsuit and actually let him work with Stark? That didn’t turn out so well last time.”

 _(I will not jeopardize my freedom, tentative though it would be.)_  
_(I would not dare try something with Banner there, able to crush me in an instant.)_  
_(Even if you do not trust me, I would want to use Midgard’s resources to locate the Power Gem. And even if I were to want to use it for myself, I would not give it to Thanos. That, you can trust.)_  
_(I want to see how much Stark can learn.)_

I lean back in my chair. “I still have much to answer for on Asgard. Debts I must pay sooner than those I have accrued on your world. Thor will not return to Odin empty-handed.”

All true, and all a lie.

_Don't smile._

Romanoff studies me. “You surrendered yourself to SHIELD custody. Do you really think Thor wants to pick a fight with his new ally?”

 _You_ really _don’t know Thor that well. “SHIELD would simply be passing me to Asgard. I would work well enough there as on Midgard.”_

Jareth ruffles his shoulders, and the three humans are abruptly reminded that their host is not quite human himself. “It seems to me that keeping Loki in your own custody would be taking your place rather publicly in the Nine Realms. It would prove that you are just as capable as Asgard of defending yourself. And, of course, working with the Underground’s own scholars would require someone who could travel Between.” He spreads his hands, and at least he has learned not to smile when he is manipulating someone. “Asgard itself needs Loki to work with Midgard’s best. Odin cannot deny this.”

I look around at the three who have taken it upon themselves to decide my fate, and I let myself sink into my chair. “Odin has denied far more,” I mutter. I wait for someone to take the opening I have so thoughtfully provided.

“Oh my God, this is not about your daddy issues,” Romanoff exclaims. She looks at Hill. “We need him, even if we don’t want him. Thor will just have to accept it.”

Usually, trying to trick people into arguing my point for me doesn’t work this well.

* * *

 

As I said.

My Lady Fate enjoys her tricks.

* * *

 

While we were gone Underground, and Stark and Banner were desperately trying to figure out if they could track us (they couldn't) with their equipment, Thor had used the Tesseract to return to Asgard. He'd then returned equally quickly, this time with a gift from Odin.

It is a simple leather band, marked with black runes in woven intricate designs with no beginning and no end. It is cut open, and the edges fray and twist in non-existent wind, eager to rejoin themselves. Once around a wrist, the edges will close back up and nothing will take it off save the one who bound it.

I am unable to keep the look of abject horror off my face.

Thor holds up the dragonskin cuff -- and it must be, nothing else would already be leeching my magic away -- with a cheerful expression at terrible odds with what he asks of me. “It will only bind your magic to the Tower,” he says. He cannot possibly be this ignorant of how much I fear— hate, _hate_ the idea of this. Thor adds, clearly oblivious to how little his words are actually reassuring, “Once you leave the bounds of the Tower, you will be able to use your magic as you always do. You can still travel to the Underground and back, to aid the Avengers in their work."

“And if I am attacked _within_ the Tower? What then?” I dearly hope my voice doesn’t convey how unsettled I am, though I am rarely that lucky. Romanoff and Stark are _right there_ and neither are as unobservant as I would like.

"Oh, the Avengers will protect you."

Thor will never understand just how much effort I am exerting not to laugh in his face. Laugh or cry or scream, any of them really. “Brother,” I begin.

And the blond oaf _smiles_. “This is what Father has decided is a fit punishment for your actions against Asgard. You are to wear this until you have located the Power Gem.”

That _bastard_. He _knows_ I will work far quicker than I would have, for the simple reason of ridding myself of this— this—

Located. Not located-and-retrieved.

“I accept,” I say quickly. I’m going to hate this. But it could be worse. Father knows he must make a showing of regret, and I would not dare use much magic in the Tower until I have gained the Avengers' trust.

Thor’s shoulders relax a little and he closes the edges of the cuff around my right wrist. A dark, sucking sensation pulls at me as though draining my heart’s blood through my fingers. I can no longer feel the threads of the city pulsing around me, nor can I hear the low hum of Thor’s presence. Part of my vision grows dark and my knees buckle. “Brother?” Thor asks in surprise. I open my eyes and find I have collapsed on the ground. Wonderful. As if I have not already opened myself up to enough ridicule. “It is not meant to hurt,” he says slowly.

My gaze snaps to his. “It does not _hurt,_ ” I bite out. “It merely feels like I have lost my sense of sight and sound and hearing all at once. It is rather disconcerting.” I stand up. I feel off balance, as though I have lost a limb. I shake out my wrist.

“Oh.” Thor tries to smile. “It is not so bad, brother?” He tried to make it a statement, I think, and ended up questioning himself anyway.

I sigh heavily. “No, I have endured far worse.”

This, Thor takes as reassurance.

Stark, I notice as I flex my fingers, seems to know what I meant by _worse._ Interesting. I wonder if I will be able to wrest the story from him. I will certainly have time, trapped here in the Tower. “You may return to Father,” I tell Thor. “I have work to do.”

* * *

 

**Author's Note:**

> Hold on to your comically large helmets, it's about to get a little mad in here. This is the beginning of an epic multiverse I've been thinking about and writing little snippets about for literally years now. Should be fun, I blindly wrote myself into some pretty awesome 'had-no-idea-i-was-planning-that' moments. I'll update tags as the story develops, in case it changes.


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